


Of New Beginnings and Second Chances

by heavenly-glance (SidneyHam)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-it, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidneyHam/pseuds/heavenly-glance
Summary: "Truthfully, he had no goddamn idea how he was still Eliot. Somehow, Dean Fogg’s memory potion hadn’t affected him the same as it did the others. After dosing the group, Fogg had sent everyone to different hotels around the city to sleep off the confusion and wake up with a new identity. But all Eliot got was a major magical hangover. Which, he supposed, was better than knowing nothing of magic at all. But what was even the point of keeping his memories if he had no one to share them with?"a fix-it fic for season 3 episode 13: Will You Play With Me?





	1. First Encounters

Eliot was losing hope quickly. He hadn’t been able to track down any of the other magicians in _weeks_ and he was beginning to think he’d never find them. His latest (and most promising) lead had brought him here, a newly-opened bookstore in central Queens. Supposedly, Quentin had been admitted to NYU as a graduate student under his new “identity” and the bookstore and its adjoining library are one of Q’s favorite places to study. Eliot sent a silent prayer to any gods that were still listening that he was there at the right time (unfortunately for him, it seemed Julia’s goddess powers went dormant when her memory was wiped).

Truthfully, he had no goddamn idea how he was still _Eliot_. Somehow, Dean Fogg’s memory potion hadn’t affected him the same as it did the others. After dosing the group, Fogg had sent everyone to different hotels around the city to sleep off the confusion and wake up with a new identity. But all Eliot got was a major magical hangover. Which, he supposed, was better than knowing nothing of magic at all. But what was even the point of keeping his memories if he had no one to share them with?

 

Eliot was just about to accept defeat and head back to his shitty Brooklyn apartment when he spotted him. _Quentin Coldwater_ , walking towards the exit of the bookstore. Eliot told his rabbiting heartbeat to _calm the fuck down, for the love of all things holy_ before Q caught sight of him; lest he embarrass himself upon meeting his best friend for the first time in months.

He didn’t have anything to worry about, as Quentin was lost in his own headspace and wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings at all. Typical. Eliot all but ran right into him in attempt to get his attention. Even with the new haircut, Q was still as handsome as ever, and Eliot had to remind himself not to come on too strong, just in case he was still suffering from the effects of Fogg’s memory wipe.

 

“Quentin! I found you,” he blurted, unable to hold himself back any longer. And damn it, Q looked like a lost puppy with his eyes darting around, trying to figure out what Eliot meant.

 

“Oh, uh - sorry no. I’m Brian.”

 

_No._ No, this really couldn’t be happening. He’d been searching for months! There’s no way Quentin wouldn’t at least kind of recognize him. Not after all they’ve been through together. Eliot forced a wavering smile onto his face as he felt the tell-tale prickling behind his eyes. _One more shot_ , he told himself. Then he’d try Plan B (which he was absolutely dreading at this point).

 

“Do a card trick for me, Quentin.” _Please_ , he added in his head. His friend laughed awkwardly, with that adorable tilt of his head Eliot knew meant he was beyond confused. _Fuck._ He was so screwed.

 

“Uh - I’m sorry, I think you’ve got me mistaken for somebody else. But I, you know…” Quentin trailed off as he walked away, leaving Eliot standing alone in the bustling streets of New York with his heart in his shoes.


	2. Plan B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot contemplates the ways he could get his friends back

In the few short moments that followed Quentin walking away from Eliot, he realized several things all at once. The first and most important being that if he wanted his friends back, if he wanted _Quentin_ back, he was going to have to try much harder than he thought.

The second realization hit him like a ton of bricks - he was still _so enamoured_ with Quentin that the prospect of all the effort he’d have to put into this was almost nothing compared to the heartache he was feeling just then. Thinking back to the man he was two years ago, he wasn’t sure he’d have tried so hard to find the group. He’d probably just accept the reality that everything he ever loved was gone and it was time to start over. But what he had was so damn good, and special, that Eliot was going to fight tooth and nail to get it all back. 

So he pulled himself together and walked the rest of the way back to his shitty apartment. It wasn’t a very long walk, but Eliot used that time to think about Plan B. If he wanted to get _his_ Quentin back, he was going to need to go back to the beginning. As he rounded the corner, he remembered a time from last year after Q was afraid he’d be expelled. Eliot had only known him a few short days but he already liked him. He’d joked that he’d just find Quentin and seduce him, thus lifting his spirits so that “life retains its sparkle for decades.”

It wasn’t a completely terrible idea.

 

But he missed magic. He _needed_ magic to keep going. He had to find Margo so they could go back to Fillory and help build the democracy they created. Hell, he wanted to take Quentin back to the cabin by the mosaic to see if it had changed as much as they had.

So. He needed to work backwards. Magic was back (however limited it may be) after it was turned off everywhere. And magic was gone because Julia and Quentin killed a few gods. They killed the gods to save Fillory. That was possible because he was the High King. They crowned themselves to kill the Beast. They went after the Beast because it wanted Quentin, who wasn’t really all that special (in the grand scheme of things) aside from knowledge about Fillory. And because Quentin loved the Fillory books so much, he loved magic even more.

 _Perfect,_ Eliot thought. Now all he needed was to find out if this version of Q read the books and loved Fillory as much as he used to. He could do this.

  


***

  


Eliot waited a week before trying to talk to Quentin again. After spending the first day at home with his cat he rescued, he was itching to get back out there and find out Q’s schedule. The great thing about living in New York was that it was pretty easy to follow someone who’s got their head in the clouds like Q does. It seemed he had more classes on Thursdays, and tended to hang out at a coffee shop just off campus in between classes.

Now that he had a time and a place, he needed to figure out how the hell he’d convince Quentin to sit and talk with the creepy stranger from a week ago. With a groan, Eliot flopped down face-first onto his bed. It was going to be a long 48 hours until meeting at the coffee shop.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the second chapter! i'm not 100% happy with it but i said it'd be a week's wait so here we are.


	3. Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is almost 3x longer than the previous two chapters, so i do hope you enjoy!

The mid afternoon sun shone bright through the windows of the coffee shop as Eliot attempted to focus on the book in front of him. He’d ordered a few minutes ago and it still wasn’t ready yet. How hard was it to brew a plain black coffee? Though the service left something to be desired, he could definitely see why Quentin loved this place so much. It had a quiet warmth to it that you didn’t often find in the middle of New York City.

 

The barista brought him his drink with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about the wait. How about I make it up to you another time, maybe I can buy you a coffee when my shift’s done?”

Eliot grimaced internally. Was she really trying to hit on him while at work? “It’s alright. Thank you, but I’m good. I’m actually meeting someone here in just a little bit.”

“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to flirt with you! My girlfriend is actually over there right now,” she pointed a thumb behind her to where a pretty girl with glasses was working on a laptop. The girl gave a little wave. “I mean, I haven’t seen you in here before so I figured you were meeting someone. Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Usually Eliot was wary about talking with complete strangers but this girl seemed nice enough, and the fact that she had a girlfriend wasn’t ringing any of his alarm bells. “No one yet, unfortunately. But uh - yeah. Would have been a boyfriend. And since you offered so politely, I guess I can’t really say no to a free coffee. As long as I can buy your lovely girlfriend her next drink as an apology for assuming you were hitting on me.”

Emily - he’d finally read her name tag - smiled brightly. “Sweet! Well, I’m done in about an hour, so I’ll get that second coffee for you then.” Eliot handed her a five dollar bill. “I’ll let Sam know that her next sugary concoction is on you, thanks. Good luck with your _friend_ you’re meeting.”

 

With a final glance at the clock on the wall above him, she marched back to the counter with a wave over her shoulder. However, Eliot didn’t have much time to get back to reading, because within five minutes the bell rang again, signalling a new customer. Quentin, _right on time_.

Eliot managed to _not_ stare at Q while he ordered and searched for a place to sit and wait for his undoubtedly ridiculous coffee. Finally, his gaze landed on Eliot.

"Hey! Hey, do I know you?" Quentin asked, quickly walking towards him. _God, I hope you do,_ he thought.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry, I'm the guy who kind of ambushed you outside of that bookstore last week. Sorry again about that." Eliot gave a tight-lipped smile.

"No - like before that. I've been wracking my brain and I _know_ I've met you before but I can't place where! Did we have a class together at NYU?" Eliot shook his head.

"Oh." Quentin paused, obviously confused. "Where did you go to school then?"

"Brakebills University." He hesitantly replied.

"Wait, okay. That - that sounds familiar. I recognize that name! _Where the fuck do I know you from?_ " That last part was whispered, but Eliot still caught it. Quentin pulled out the chair opposite of him and moved to sit down before stopping himself.

"Oh, oh shit, I'm so sorry! I didn't even ask - is it okay if I sit here? I just, I really need to figure this out and it's been driving me crazy all week." Quentin blushed, as if Eliot would ever say no to him. Well. He’d say no to some things.

Eliot gave him a general 'go ahead' gesture. This was going far better than he had actually planned. Maybe he wouldn't need to bring up the Fillory books after all. Speaking of which, he closed the book and set it to the side, while making sure the cover was still visible.

 

“I’m Eliot by the way. Eliot Waugh. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” He reached his hand out across the table in invitation. Quentin grabbed it, and he let out a relieved sigh.

“Brian Turnpike,” Q said as he shook the offered hand. “So you really didn’t go to NYU?”

“Nope. Although…” Eliot trailed off, hoping to raise intrigue. “I did used to know someone just like you at Brakebills. His name is Quentin. Or, well, he was Quentin.” Something akin to recognition flashed in Q’s eyes when he heard his name, which was always a good sign.

“Oh, what happened to him?” He paused, then shook his head a little as if to clear it. “Sorry, that was way presumptuous of me. You don’t have to tell me about Qu-Quentin  if you don’t want to.” He stuttered a bit trying to get the familiar name passed his lips.

Eliot dismissed his apology with a wave of his hand, “It’s complicated really. So, what about you? What are you studying?” He asked, in an attempt to change the subject. As much as he wanted to jump right into that conversation and have his Quentin back already, he knew now wasn’t the time or place for it.

“Physic, actually! I hated the classes in high school, but after getting my bachelor’s I was much more interested in it.” Q said with his signature crooked smile.

If Eliot swooned internally, no one but him had to know.

“Really? I’d have pegged you as an English major. You’ve got that whole ‘hipster writer’ style going on.”

“Well, that’s what I got my bachelor’s degree in last year. But like I said, I got inspired. Must’ve had a really great teacher… or friends. But enough about me. What did you study?”

 

Eliot paused to think about that. He’d gotten a fashion degree for his undergrad, but that wouldn’t spur the conversation on to magic very much. “Oddly enough, I’ve got a physics degree too. Although at Brakebills it’s a little different than what you’re probably learning.”

“Oh! Maybe I’ve seen you at one of our field trips then. But, uh, how different are we talking here?” Quentin seemed genuinely intrigued, but not in the right thing. Eliot had to find a way to get him to abandon the field trip hypothesis.

“It’s - how do I put this? It’s more focused theories instead of actually proven stuff, I guess? If I didn’t know better,” he smirked. “I’d say we’re studying magic. But… yeah. Only in books, right?” he picked up the previously ignored Fillory book and waved it around lazily.

Quentin’s eyes lit up when he saw what book Eliot was holding. Bingo.

“Holy shit, _you_ like the Fillory books too?”

“I know a little about it, yeah.”

“You know, I actually - I wrote my thesis on those books and the reality they’re based on. I could talk about it for hours.” Quentin glanced up at the clock above them. “Shit! I was only supposed to stay here for like, 45 minutes. It’s almost been an hour!” He started to chug his now lukewarm coffee that Emily had brought him earlier.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go,” he said, reaching for his bag by the chair, before stopping and making eye contact once again. “But, I mean - and you can totally say no if you don’t want to - but maybe we can get together sometime. Drinks maybe? We just, we have a lot in common I think, and I’d like to get to know you more. If that’s okay?”

Oh for the love of all things holy, this boy will be the death of him.

“Yeah,” Eliot replied, trying not to seem too excited. “I’d love that. Are you free this weekend? I know this quaint little bar in brooklyn we can go to.”

“That sounds perfect. Here,” Quentin took a sharpie out of his bag to scribble on a napkin. “Here’s my number. Text me and we can figure out a time that works. It was really nice meeting you, Eliot.”

 

He was out the door before Eliot even had the chance to say goodbye. _Oh well,_ he thought, _at least I have his number_. He glanced down at the napkin to see something completely unexpected.

The name written on the napkin belonged to a one ‘Brian Turnwater’ which was certainly _not_ the name he’d given Eliot just an hour prior. His heart gave a little skip at the thought that Q might be getting his memories back, or at least his identity, more rapidly than he’d expected. Eliot wondered if his other friends were getting theirs back too, or if it was just because he’d tried to kickstart Quentin’s.

Either way, that was a problem for another day. Eliot smiled to himself and grabbed his free coffee from Emily before heading out the door and walking back to his apartment. He had a lot of planning to do before meeting his friend for drinks this weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. i wrote most of this while a little bit tipsy so please let me know if you see any errors. i don't have a beta reader so all mistakes are 100% mine lol

**Author's Note:**

> this will be updated semi-regularly, hopefully weekly as I continue writing and adding to the story
> 
> come chat with me on tumblr @winteralec so we can yell about how unfair it is that we have to wait until next year for season 4


End file.
